One More Sleepless Night
by CrystallicSky
Summary: Jack is tired, but he can't sleep because of all the thinking about everything that just happened that he has to do. Curse these weird and confusing situations he gets himself into! CHACK, ONESHOT


**One More Sleepless Night  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of the characters in it.**

Warning(s): Gay sex references, gay interaction, raunchy language; if you have a problem with any of these, feel free to call my hot-line to sort it out with me. The number is 1-800-SUCKIT. XD

Jack could not stop thinking.

Naturally, the thinking was interfering with his sleeping, as it was rather late and he was tired for various reasons, but because he was busy thinking, he really had no time to think about sleeping.

Most of his thinking was centered around, as it usually was, his idol and the unwilling keeper of his heart, Chase Young, but in a decidedly...different way than usual.

How all this had started was really a gigantic mystery to the poor genius, and no matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, it still remained incomprehensible.

The day had started normally for him, at about noon, and with a bowl of Fruit Loops and a glass of Vault (the breakfast of champions, as far as he was concerned) and then for hours afterward, he'd spent his time in relatively equal parts watching cartoons and tinkering with various inventions.

Sometime around eight or nine, he had decided to go and visit his evil hero, and _that_ was where things had taken a drastically unfamiliar turn.

He'd shown up at the man's citadel (marveling for what must have been the millionth time at how damnably _cool_ it was), for once managing to get inside without risking head-trauma and missing teeth at the (figurative) hands of the door and had quickly set off to find the real reason he had come here.

The warlord had been easily located (but of course, only because he'd _let_ himself be found) and the two had gotten to talking; not conversationally, obviously, as they weren't friends despite how deeply Jack wished for at least _that_ much, but really more of an exchange between annoyed, witty banter and an almost-cloying, complimentary demeanor meant to weasel the goth into his idol's good graces.

Sometimes, he felt like a stupid puppy for even trying anymore, all too willing to be kicked around and to even come back for more if it meant the slim possibility of one little pat on the head, but it was like he couldn't help himself; he knew love was blind, but he'd never heard it was stupid...or was that just him?

Either way, it was around then that something weird happened.

Jack had been in the middle of some sentence or other about how Chase was just _so_ awesome, and then he'd really almost _had_ to stop talking at the odd look the man was giving him. He'd never seen such an expression before in his life, but it was something that he was now able to recognize as lust.

Without warning, he'd been pounced upon, the dragon-man's mouth and hands seemingly everywhere at once as clothes quickly began flying, and thus had his dilemma come about.

Back to the present, now, where he was lying completely nude on his side in Chase's bed, coated with dried sweat and various other fluids (not all of which were his) as his brain worked in overdrive to try and figure this whole thing out.

Replaying the encounter in his head had proved useless, for there had been no overlooked hints leading up to the...erm, _main event_, so he now figured that he might try to approach it analytically, and try to interpret things from the warlord's actions instead of his words.

His first thought was the sex in general; that _surely_ said something in the way of affection, because Chase couldn't _totally_ hate him if he'd seen fit to fuck him, right?

Ah, Jack thought to himself, but the man really didn't look at him much during, and directly into his eyes only once, so maybe he was simply horny enough to put aside his hatred and fantasize that he was someone else for the sake of sex?

But that didn't seem right; if that were true, Chase would've simply used his body and kicked him out the minute he was done, and he _certainly_ wouldn't have actually brought him to his bedroom and allowed him to stay.

Jack nearly moaned aloud, his head beginning to ache from the endless and inconclusive thought-process; it was as if he'd set out to determine the very last digit of pi!

The soft comforter warming him and the muscular body half-atop his (calling to mind an _actual_ dragon laying atop its treasure hoard, guarding it even in slumber from those who would try to take it from its lair) were really no comfort to the poor goth at the moment.

The way he saw it, there were two possibilities: one, he'd finally gotten through to Chase in some small way and he was being given a chance. Two, all this meant nothing and he was still utterly worthless in the warlord's beautiful golden eyes.

Being honest with himself, Jack knew the latter was _far_ more likely, and that _really_ hurt to think about.

"Stop _thinking_," Chase moaned at him, aggravated, "I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, and its keeping me awake..."

Startled, having thought his, well, he supposed 'lover' was an acceptable, tentative, neutral label, asleep, the albino could only barely murmur, "S...sorry..."

Chase simultaneously curled the blanket and his arm tighter around the boy who claimed himself his biggest fan, growling without a mean-spirited tone, "Don't be sorry; sleep."

As he heard something almost like concern in that growl, Jack suddenly found himself able to relax, his exhaustion catching up with him at long last.

Logic informed him that if he were _completely_ worthless to the ancient warrior, Chase would not care if he were cold or that he was not sleeping, and he most _definitely_ would not be spooning him so tenderly as he was right now.

With this knowledge, he was content to finally drift off to sleep, confident that he would be told what was going on sooner or later.

Chase waited until the soft, pleasant scent of sleep emanated from the gothic teen's every pore to affectionately nuzzle his nose into the fire-red hair, absently wondering what sort of shampoo or conditioner the albino used to give the brightly-colored strands that intriguing, delightful smell that even _he_ with his sharp senses couldn't place.

The youth's earlier metaphor about a dragon protecting its treasure was not all that far from the truth.

The very moment he'd met Jack Spicer, he had known that the boy was desirable to him, something he wanted for his own; he was just so unique and refreshingly new with his pale skin and ruby eyes, clearly tied to a time perhaps _ahead_ of the present by his technology.

This easily caught the warlord's attention, for the youth was his opposite in that sense, himself being bound to not the future but the past; he had always been a believer in the phrase, 'opposites attract.'

That had drawn him in at first, yes, but he had remained intrigued by Jack's mannerisms and ways: he had _never_ met an individual like Spicer before, and to someone who'd lived as long as he had, new was _good_.

And, too, he was _far_ from ugly; of course, not as gorgeous as Chase knew he _himself_ was, but Jack was only human and could not be expected to achieve such a standard.

He was beautiful enough, as far as the man was concerned; besides, any prettier, and the goth would be at risk of being propositioned by someone _else_, and that simply would _not_ do.

Despite how much he'd wanted to take Spicer, however, he could not.

This particular batch of Xiaolin monks were exceedingly ruthless and only barely able to be considered 'good', oft willing to ignore more than a few morals in order to come out on top. If he were to have expressed even the _tiniest_ bit of emotion for the goth, Chase was sure they would not be above threatening his life in order to blackmail him into various things to suit their trivial purposes.

And so he constantly forced himself to push the youth away, no matter how badly doing so hurt them both and no matter how many times he came right back; he would _not_ risk the life of such a creature for _any_ price.

Tonight, though...he'd broken his rule and given in to his..._their_ desires.

He'd simply snapped! He was unable to stand that shy smile and those hopeful eyes any longer as their owner sang his praises so sweetly, and he soon discovered that he'd been right in imagining that Spicer would be just shy of a _god_ in bed, inexperienced, but utterly willing and eager to do absolutely _anything_.

He could never go back to always keeping the albino at arm's length, not now that he'd had a taste of his own personal Garden of Eden.

Ah, well, the warlord sighed to himself, becoming comfortable against the warmth of his new lover, he'd simply have to step up his game a bit to keep _his_ Jack safe from those damned Xiaolin.

Spicer, too, would surely have a plethora of questions later, happy as he may be to have gotten the man at long last, but it could wait at _least_ until morning.

Besides, if he had his way, there would be many, _many_ more mornings after...

**A/N: So...yeah, another one-shot resulting from my boredom and lack of time to do an actual chapter of something. Hope you enjoy! :D**


End file.
